to say, but for several days
she neglected her attic sanctum and pervaded the garden during
recreation hours.

Raymonde and Fauvette lay low, and toiled with an amazing spurt of
industry at osier-weaving.

"You've each nearly finished a basket," said Miss Gibbs approvingly.

"Yes, if we go on working hard this afternoon I think we shall finish
them," replied Raymonde craftily.

"It's nice to have a thing done. I'm glad you've taken to such a
sensible employment," commented Miss Gibbs.

"We like to have our fingers occupied, and then our minds haven't time
to wander," said Raymonde, quoting so shamelessly from Miss Beasley
that Fauvette kicked her surreptitiously in alarm.

Miss Gibbs regarded her for a moment with suspicion, but her eyes were
bent demurely over her basket, and her expression was innocence
personified.

"It's as well you have something to do under cover, for I think it's
going to rain," observed the mistress as she turned to leave the
barn.

The girls watched her cross the courtyard and enter the house; then
Fauvette, scooting in by the back way, had the further satisfaction of
seeing the tail of her skirt whisking up the attic stairs. She ran
back to report to Raymonde.

"Gibbie's safe in her sanctum. She thinks we're happily employed here
for the next hour. Let's bolt for the Limberlost! There's nobody in
the courtyard."

"Right-o!" echoed Raymonde. "It's the opportunity of a lifetime."

They did not wait to fetch hats, but, strolling down the flagged path
as if for exercise, reached the great gate. Then, glancing cautiously
round to see that the coast was absolutely clear, they unlatched the
little postern door, slipped through, and shut it after them. A moment
later they were running at top speed down the road that led to the
wood. It was not a very great distance away, and they had often passed
near it in their walks. To scramble over the palings and enter its
cool, mysterious shade had been their dream. They were resolved now
to make it a reality.

They had been prepared for something delightful, but not for the
little terrestrial paradise that spread itself at the farther side of
the fence. The wood had been thinned comparatively recently, so that
it admitted an unusual amount of light and air. The trees, just
bursting into the tender green of early May, spread delicate lacy
boughs overhead, like tender fingers held out to guard the treasures
underneath. The ground below, still m